


Dance with the Devil

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blaine Friendly, High School, Humor, M/M, mention of Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10311260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: While working as a temp in a luxury office building, Kurt finds himself in an unfortunate situation, which leads him to the even more unfortunate situation of being in Sebastian Smythe's debt.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForbiddenDusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenDusk/gifts).



> Written for the Kurtoberfest prompt "black cats, bones, and bats" and dedicated to freakingpotter who gave me the idea, like, two years ago xD AU that assumes Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine are all in the same grade (I'm picking sophomore), and all attended Dalton together. Also messes with the timeline a little bit so that Blaine is crushing on Jeremiah during November.

“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice, Mr. Hummel,” Olivia – a petite older woman with curly blonde hair and seashell-pink plastic rimmed glasses far too big for her face – sniffles. She reminds Kurt of Carole the way her eyes turn to slits when she smiles, crinkling at the corners, and the rosy pink lipstick she wears even though it doesn’t flatter her skin. She turns her face away from Kurt when she coughs into the crook of her arm. He knows she’s trying to be discreet, but she sounds like she’s ten feet away from death’s door. “We’ve had three other temps go home early already. We were running out of hope.”

“Well, thank you for trusting your business to Eastwood Employment Agency,” Kurt says, reciting the line the agency requires him to say.

She smiles at his response, but suddenly turns and coughs again, shaking violently as she tries to catch a breath. Kurt takes a subtle step to the right, putting more airspace between them. The last thing he needs is to catch whatever she and the other receptionists have. He wants to fill his school breaks with as many jobs as he can so he can raise money for his college fund. Usually he’d just work down at his dad’s shop for extra money, but it seems that Finn has cornered the franchise on that. Besides, Kurt’s sick of staining his skin and nails doing oil changes. A nice, _clean_ desk job, answering phone calls while he checks his social media feeds, is more his style.

“This is where you’ll sit.” Olivia leads Kurt to an impressively large, circular station in the center of the lobby, made entirely of sleek, black, marble-like stone shimmering with flecks of clear quartz embedded inside. The actual desk portion is wood - Kurt thinks mahogany – running the entire length of the stone barricade and hidden like an executive-style fort. The enclosure houses a phone, a desktop computer, a file cabinet, even a mini fridge.

“Classy,” Kurt says. He steps through the opening in the stone wall. He walks to the rolling desk chair, puts his messenger bag on the floor, and takes a seat.

“You’ll be in charge of greeting guests to the Luxe Building,” Olivia explains, snuffling the ends of her sentences. “When a visitor walks in, smile, and say …” She hacks into her arm, and this time, Kurt’s not entirely sure she’s going to recover. She coughs and coughs until her face turns beet red, wheezing like every inch of breath is leaving her body. Then she recovers quickly, turning to him with a big smile “… Welcome to the Luxe Building.” She barely misses a beat. He’s tempted to applaud. “Answer any questions they have. Most people who come here know where they’re going, but in case they don’t, bathrooms and directories are by the elevators.” She points behind Kurt to where he recalls seeing elevators when he walked in. “You’re also in charge of answering the phones and redirecting calls. There’s a booklet beside the phone with a list of extensions compiled by last name in alphabetical order. The first two numbers of an extension indicate what floor a person’s on, just in case you need to find someone that way.”

“Nothing’s computerized?” Kurt asks. He glances at the desktop computer, confused as to why a multimillion dollar building, which houses floor after floor of Fortune 500 companies, would bother with a receptionist and an ink-and-paper directory – not that he’s complaining. He’s getting $12 an hour to babysit a desk.

“The majority of the businesses in this building bypass the receptionist and have a direct line to their floor. To be honest, you’re mostly a smiling face for the odd person who comes in.”

Olivia smiles, as if to tell him that that job starts now.

Kurt smiles, eager to start earning money.

“Sounds like an easy job,” Kurt comments, wondering how he can swing a gig like this until he graduates high school.

“It can be,” Olivia agrees. “But every once in a while it can be a real pain in the tuchus.” She laughs herself into another coughing fit. Kurt searches the desk for a box of tissues. He sees a can of Lysol antibacterial cleaning wipes and logs their location away for after she’s gone. He’s going to disinfect this desk from top to bottom. “Anyway, unless you have any questions … oh, and one more thing.” She drags a crystal bowl across the counter top, bringing it to a stop closer to Kurt’s face. “We keep this bowl filled with gummy candy for whoever wants. They’re sugar-free. If you want a handful, go ahead. If you ever run out, there’s a bag under the desk. Just refill it.”

Kurt picks a few candies out of the bowl and examines them. They’re individually wrapped, ambiguously-dark colored, and in the shapes of black cats, bones, and bats. Seeing as it’s going to be Thanksgiving in a week, he finds that a little odd.

“They’re from Halloween,” she says, assuming confusion from his quirked brow, “but they’re still goo---“ This time Olivia turns completely around when she coughs. The force causes her to stumble a few steps. Kurt covers his mouth with his hand. He feels bad for her, really he does, but he doesn’t need to catch bronchitis days before he cooks a meal to feed ten people.

“I’ll be fine,” Kurt says, finding a box of tissues and tossing it up onto the counter beside the bowl. “You just go home and get better, Mrs. Parkins, and let Eastwood Employment Agency take care of the rest.”

“Oh, yes.” She reaches back for a tissue without turning around, leading Kurt to believe that something disgusting has happened just over her bowed shoulders. “Of course. Thank you.”

Kurt watches the poor woman hobble off, coughing and hacking the entire way to the elevator. The minute she steps in and the doors close, he’s alone - just him, a quiet phone, and a bowl of questionable candy. First things first, he busts out the container of cleaning wipes and wipes down _everything_ – the counter, the bowl, the first layer of candies, the phone, the desk, the computer keyboard, the mini fridge, and the armrests on the chair. He takes his on-the-go bottle of Purell out of his bag and disinfects his hands. Then he sits in the chair and waits, poised at the ready to see if the phone will ring. When it doesn’t, he sits back in the chair and relaxes. He pulls out his phone and checks his Tumblr blog, resisting the urge to post a selfie. He doesn’t want to get fired for breaking some rule against selfie taking that he doesn’t know exists. Better safe than sorry.

He realizes when he tries to scroll down that he’s still holding a handful of gummy candy. He’d managed to clean the whole desk with them clutched in his hand. Instead of tossing them back in the bowl, he decides to throw caution to the wind. He unwraps them and shoves them in his mouth. They’re surprisingly good for sugar-free gummies. But eating that handful reminds him that he didn’t grab lunch on the way over. He’d been so excited when he got the call from Eastwood Employment Agency, he ran out of the house, not even considering the fact that he might not get a lunch break. And seeing as Olivia didn’t mention one, he’s probably screwed for food unless he can get someone to bring him something.

He texts his dad, then Carole, then Finn, going down the line of friends who might be willing to bring him lunch, and while he waits, he nibbles, gummy after gummy meeting its inevitable demise.

He switches over to Facebook. He hearts his friends’ pictures, and reads the posts on The New Directions page, but much of his wall is flooded with brag posts from people who managed to snag dates to the upcoming McKinley Winter Ball. Kurt zips past as many of them as he can at once, but when his screen stops scrolling, they’re still there, taunting him with their heteronormativity.

God, he wants a date to a school dance. Dalton is having a dance after Thanksgiving break – some conjoined winter-themed hootenanny with their sister school, Crawford Country Day. Technically, he already has a date. Mercedes offered to go with him. But as much as he loves his best friend, he wishes he could go with a boy. It would be possible at Dalton – their no-tolerance bullying policy extends to school sponsored activities. But the pickings are slim as far as gay guys go at Dalton. In fact, the only other openly gay boys that Kurt knows of are Blaine Anderson and Sebastian Smythe. His first choice would be to go with Blaine. Kurt has secretly been in love with Blaine since the day he met him. But their relationship seems to have plateaued at the friend stage, and besides, there’s a certain GAP manager that Blaine knows that seems to occupy his thoughts 24/7, even though the man hasn’t done anything other than buy him coffee. Kurt doesn’t want to be turned down on the off-chance that a 19-year-old man has nothing better to do on a Saturday night then go to a high school dance, but Kurt also doesn’t want to be Blaine’s “Plan B”.

That leaves Sebastian, and boy could Kurt leave him. Sebastian seems a bit more interested in making Kurt’s life miserable – spending every waking moment that they run in to one another reminding Kurt how ridiculously he dresses out of uniform, how low class his beginnings, how destined for life as a Lima Bean barista he is - than in anything as parochial as a high school dance. Not that Kurt would ask him. Not in this life or any other.

Besides, Sebastian seems to be on Team “Lusting After Blaine” as well, always showing up unannounced when Kurt and Blaine are having coffee together, bragging about his big wins on the lacrosse field, or how he made President of the Chess Club or Model U. N., showing off how much more accomplished he is than Kurt, how much more worthy of Blaine’s time and attention.

So he’s definitely out.

And knowing Kurt’s luck, if GAP manager guy doesn’t come through for Blaine, Blaine will probably end up with Sebastian. In fact, Kurt’s kind of surprised Sebastian hasn’t asked Blaine to go by now. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would be frightened off by the prospect of an older man possibly being Blaine’s date. Maybe Sebastian has someone else already lined up – someone he thinks will make Blaine jealous.

Ugh! Kurt thinks as he pops another handful of gummies in his mouth. He’s already given this way too much thought.

Unless Kurt wants to go stag, Mercedes might be his only option.

Kurt contemplates sending her a text to tell her to brush off that purple gown she wore to Winter Ball last year when he hears someone enter the building. Kurt swallows down a mouthful of cats, sits up straight, and is about to launch into his greeting when he hears, “Well, well, well - Kurt Hummel, secretary. It’s not a Lima Bean apron, but it still suits you.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt groans. _Think of the devil, and he will appear_. _But why here? Why now?_ “Why the hell are you here, Sebastian?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Sebastian says, walking up to the counter and standing in Kurt’s line of sight. “That’s not how you’re supposed to greet guests to the Luxe Building.”

“You’re not a guest, you’re more of a parasite. Answer the question.”

Kurt expects Sebastian to decline, even threaten to tattle on him, but he doesn’t. “My uncle’s office is on the twenty-sixth floor.”

“So, you’re working in your uncle’s office over the vacation?”

Sebastian laughs so suddenly, Kurt would think the idea is so ridiculous, Sebastian has never considered it before. “God, no. I just met with him for lunch. You know, I don’t see why they need a receptionist down here. This place is usually a graveyard.” His eyes fall on the empty bowl on the counter. He scrunches his nose, picking the thing up in disbelief and turning it over. “Yuck! This bowl is never empty. I didn’t know anyone actually _ate_ these things.”

“Why?” Kurt asks, feeling oddly offended. “They’re not _that_ bad.”

Sebastian looks from the empty bowl to Kurt. “Wait … did _you_ eat them?”

Kurt goes from offended to embarrassed. Now that he sees it empty, it is a rather large bowl for one human being to have eaten all of them. “Maybe.”

Sebastian chuckles, but slowly starts to look serious. “Was the bowl full? H-how many did you eat?”

Kurt looks at Sebastian, not sure what to make of his expression. Kurt’s not in the habit of trusting Sebastian. In fact, it’s yet to happen. But something about his eyes, the look of concern that Kurt’s not too sure would be easy to fake, makes Kurt nervous. “I eat when I get bored,” he says, still not willing to admit outright that he polished off the whole bowl himself. “Olivia said they’re sugar-free.”

“Uh, yeah, but still, you’re only supposed to have a few.” The look of concern doesn’t shift from Sebastian’s eyes. In fact, it deepens. Kurt swallows hard.

“Okay, yes, I ate the whole bowl. Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t get to eat lunch before I got here, and I thought it would leave a bad impression if I passed out on my first day. Look, I’ll fill it back up.” Kurt grabs the bag from beneath the desk and starts pouring more gummy candies into the bowl, not mentioning that after he emptied the bowl, he started swiping straight from the source. “See? What’s the big deal?”

“You’re not going to believe me if I tell you, and as amusing as it would be to watch you find out for yourself, I’m just going to show you.” Sebastian pulls up Amazon on his phone. He types something in, enlarges the page, then hands the phone to Kurt. On the screen is the very same sugar-free gummies Kurt has been pounding down non-stop. At first glance, he doesn’t see anything wrong with them. They’re a 3.5 star rated product, but that’s probably because people don’t usually like anything sugar-free (he tells himself). But he scrolls down to the reviews, and immediately changes his tune.

_THESE THINGS MUST BE THE SPAWN OF SATAN! DO NOT BUY!_

Kurt physically jerks after reading that, as if the reviewer was screaming in his face. As if that isn’t alarming enough, the reviews actually get worse.

_Oh man ... words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear "Cleanse". If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!_

_It was like something out of a horror movie …_

_0/10 my rectum melted into thin air …_

_How are these still legal? I'm about to call a priest to perform an exorcism to get those little demons out of my body!_

_I have had these and after that I WANT TO DIE …_

_This product is the government’s alternative to waterboarding terrorists …_

_There's not a bucket in the world big enough to hold the deluge of diarrhea that erupted after my family and I tucked into these …_

On and on the reviews went, one horrific story of gastrointestinal distress after another. The seventh time he reads the word “diarrhea” he feels his stomach churn. He throws a hand over his mouth when, in actuality, he should be putting it over something else. “Oh God,” he moans. The phone starts to ring, eight lines suddenly lighting up at once, but he doesn’t hear it. All he hears as he races out from behind the desk and to the restroom is Sebastian laughing so hard, Kurt’s certain he’ll end up with a hernia.

***

Kurt doesn’t know what’s more humiliating – the fact that he spent the last half hour defiling the swankiest bathroom he has ever been in, that Sebastian Smythe knows about it, or that now he feels so weak, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to drive home. He could call his dad to come pick him up, but how would he explain this to him – without having to hear about it at every Friday night dinner or holiday meal from now till the end of time, that is? He could call Finn instead, but that option wouldn’t end much better. Worst of all, he’s pretty sure he just forfeited his paycheck. Of course, Sebastian told on him. He probably didn’t even wait till the bathroom door shut before he called Olivia and spilled the details. Kurt will come back to a phone lit up like a Christmas tree, being manned by an angry and red-faced Olivia, no longer thankful that Kurt had showed up on a moment’s notice to save the day.

Though, in retrospect, maybe he should sue, since it was her candy that turned his stomach inside out.

But what Kurt _does_ return to is ten times more shocking than Olivia in a bathrobe and slippers.

Before he steps a foot away from the bathroom door, he hears, “Thank you for calling the Luxe Building, how may I re-direct your call? … Mr. Allen’s out of the office for the afternoon. May I transfer you to his voicemail? … I’m not sure that Ms. Cable has a three o’clock open, but I can put you through to her receptionist …” all in Sebastian’s voice. At least, Kurt _thinks_ it’s Sebastian’s voice. He’s never heard him sound so polite before. Kurt approaches the reception area cautiously, his stomach still in a delicate condition, but wondering if he shouldn’t bypass the reception desk entirely and run for the hills. But he can’t. He left his phone and his messenger bag behind the counter. He can’t risk leaving those with Sebastian Smythe.

Sebastian turns and catches Kurt walking toward him, almost on tiptoes, as he transfers the last call. “Do I need to call maintenance, or do the toilets still flush?”

Kurt can’t stand how quickly his cheeks turn red at that remark. He wishes he could just see the humor in it. If Sebastian were Finn or Puck, Kurt might be able to laugh it off, but next to having been caught in this position by Blaine, this is horrifying.

“You covered for me while I was in the bathroom being sick?” Kurt deflects.

“Well, I didn’t want my uncle’s office missing any calls because you inhaled eight pounds of diarrhea fuel.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” Kurt says, even though he can’t say he remembers the last name _Smythe_ anywhere on the phone directory. Of course, maybe it’s his mother’s brother, but he also can’t remember seeing any extensions for the twenty-sixth floor.

“Yeah, well, responsible’s my middle name.”

“Really?” Kurt crosses his arms. “Call me a skeptic, but I never would have guessed that.”

“And losing seventeen pounds of water weight did nothing to lighten your attitude.”

“Excuse me for being a little short, but I’m just curious what I’m going to owe you now for helping me out.”

Sebastian shrugs. He stands, relinquishing Kurt’s chair. “Maybe just say thank you.”

Kurt waits until Sebastian passes him by before he returns to his chair. He does a quick scan of the desk. His bag is where he left it, and so is his phone. Nothing looks touched. “Thank you,” Kurt says, his tone flat and dry. Sebastian frowns.

“Well, that’s not a very nice _thank you_. And after everything I’ve done for you.” Sebastian shakes his head disapprovingly. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something you can do to show your appreciation.”

Kurt’s jaw drops. “Wha---? I thought you said …”

“Yes, but that wasn’t a very pleasant _thank you_ you just gave me. And as much as I’m not too sure how it would behoove me to let the knowledge slip that I just spent the last thirty minutes listening to you break ass, I’m still hoping for a proper show of gratitude.”

Kurt crosses his arms. “ _What_ show of gratitude?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something,” Sebastian says, dismissively. But a sneaky grin takes over his mouth. “Hey, do you have a date to that Dalton Country Day dance?”

Kurt feels his sensitive stomach sink, cold chills radiating up his spine. “Uh … no. Why?”

Sebastian smirks. “Just curious. If I were you, I’d keep that date open. See you around.”

Kurt watches Sebastian leave, a whirlwind of awful thoughts whisking through his head, making him feel nauseous all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> The reviews for the gummy candies are based off these real reviews https://www.amazon.com/Haribo-Sugar-Free-Gummy-Bears/product-reviews/B008JELLCA/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_paging_btm_2?ie=UTF8&reviewerType=all_reviews&sortBy=recent&pageNumber=2


End file.
